what you want is not what you need
by khelana
Summary: "There's something I need to tell you. I'm a werewolf." A pause, a complete lack of shock, only laughing eyes, and: "The funny thing is... so am I."  Jacob x OC
1. she is elise

_elise._

The calm before the storm.

Cliché, sure, but that's what Elise likes to call it. She runs her fingers through her long, ivory hair (she always says she's just a really light blonde), scanning the basement that she's been renting. It's cool, dark, and cozy – exactly how she likes it.

The calm before the storm.

It's wishful thinking, actually. She's anything but calm right now, but she always does everything she can to give the illusion of it. Who's she trying to fool? Herself? No one is here, thank goodness, she's alone. She rents from a guy who works two-weeks-on, two-weeks-off in the North Slope, up in Alaska on the pipeline. He's not a stranger, she used to know him so well... but she can't even remember his name.

Anxiously, Elise looks at the window, at the dimness outside. Soon, the call would be unbearable. Soon, she'd have to run.

_It's a good thing we're on the outskirts of town, _she thinks, _I won't have far to go._ She won't be turning into a wolf tonight, no, that was tomorrow night. But she was always a mess the day before. Hell, she used to be a mess all the time, but with time came understanding, with time came control.

Elise takes a deep breath, turns off the TV set she never really watches, and sprints up the stairs, two at a time, at an inhuman speed.

Minutes later, she's miles away, in a different part of forest than before.

For reasons unknown, something compels her to go further West, further South...


	2. he is jacob

_jacob._

It's been seven years.

It feels like it's been forever.

And yet, it also feels like just yesterday I was madly in love with a girl who made the wrong choice in the end.

She chose death over life.

At that point, I was ready to do the same. Ready to kill the monster who killed her, who she, for reasons unknown to me, put before her own life. Part of me will always wonder... _If Seth hadn't stopped me, hadn't imprinted... would it have been the right thing? _Bella had chosen her fate, right? But she'd also chosen mine. Fuck that.

I take a deep breath, looking down at my right hand, a hand that is clawing into the rock I am sitting on. Tiny pebbles fall like sand onto the ground, I'm putting so much pressure on it. Focusing on relaxing it, I let the red-hot anger that is the source of my power subside. The shorts I am wearing aren't _too _worn out; it'd be a pain to be running around naked, at any rate. My thoughts keep drifting, no, swinging. Back and forth like a pendulum. Past and Present, Past and Present. Never the Future. I can't imagine that far anymore, I know if I dream I'll be disappointed sooner or later.

Those days are behind me, or at least that's what I've gotta keep thinking. The Pack needs me, or maybe I need them. Hell if I know.

Now I sit, looking up at the full moon. _Werewolves. _Regardless of what Bella's leech says, we are werewolves. We turn into wolves, that has to count enough, right? Mindless beasts we are not... though tempers often flare, we have morals, we have _souls._ More than what bloodsuckers can say.

I look over into the trees, my eyes picking up minute details, even with only the pale moon's light to guide me. My human nose, my human eyes... are strong, yes, stronger than when I was only human, but they have nothing on my senses as a wolf. Soon, it will be a bit easier, though. Dawn is approaching. Embry is running his patrol. I should have taken it for him tonight, considering I'm out anyway... Maybe I will.

I strip, incredibly efficient at whipping clothes off now... I've had so much practice. If I had any interest in chicks I'd be able to put it to a more entertaining use, but women equal disappointment unless you imprint, which is something I'd rather not do. Not that I'd have any choice in the matter, dammit.

That thought is enough to send me smoothly into my wolf form, phasing comes so easily now. Then again, it always has.

_"Embry." _He is already far away from me, but I can catch up with ease. I race toward him as he stops, waiting for my approach.

_"Hey, Jake." _I think of my intentions, ones he certainly doesn't mind. _"Heck yeah, you can take this patrol! If you're offerin'... it ain't gonna be a bother, right?"_

_"Nah. It's cool." _I inwardly remind him of Natasha, his imprint. Any hesitation is now completely gone as his mind goes into overdrive, thinking of his own sun, the center of his world.

_"Thanks a ton, Jake! I owe you!"_

_"Of course you do," _I reply, breezing past him as I follow the path we usually do. He turns back, rushing home. I do my best to tune out his thoughts, thoughts consumed by Nattie. A growl hisses through my teeth as he envisions her in bed, for I certainly don't need to be fantasizing about my best friend's imprint!

_"MINE!" _He's ticked off now, even though it was totally his fault. Ugh. _"SHE'S MINE!"_ I wished he'd just phase now and hike home. He considers it, but ultimately decides to be lazy.

Minutes pass, me trying to ignore Embry and him trying not to think too amorous thoughts... but everything about her turns him on. _"Dammit, Embry!" _This was not the way to repay me! Contrite, and mercifully, he phases, now that he's closer to the outskirts of town. Relief spreads through me. I focus on my surroundings now, alone in my mind again.

An owl flies past me, its wings impossibly quiet even in motion, as it descends rapidly on an unsuspecting mouse. Its talons crush the tiny creature's ribs, digging into its abdomen as it takes off once again, meal secured. Not even a full second passes, and the mouse's life is over. How quickly things could change!

I'm long gone by now, the owl and I going our separate ways. My stomach rumbles. I wouldn't mind some grub right now. The cooked kind, I mean.

These thoughts are effectively interrupted as a howl rings out into the night, musical but so very mournful. I freeze, coming to a sudden halt as I strain to find the source, my ears swiveling as I listen carefully. _Breathing, heavy breathing. Whoosh, ah, whoosh, ah, whoosh... _The hairs on my back stand straight up as I begin to run. My nose is at work as I scent the air. _Blood. Deer blood. Fur. Thick fur, smelling like forest and wind and soil. _Sound, once again. Whoever it is, _what_ever it is, is approaching me.

Adrenaline soaring, I wonder if I should call for backup when a dark shape rips out of the darkness. Shadows move, shape into paws and a snout, a _wolf!_ My lips curl into a snarl reflexively as I spring out of the way to dodge as it lunges for me. My breathing quickens, time slows. _No! I can't be imprinting! _And I don't. Maybe there's a God after all.

I crouch low, braced to defend. This time, _pal,_ I'll be biting back.

Dawn's rays crest over the horizon, pink light illuminating the area.

The other wolf, equal in size to me, stops, mid-stride. Eyes as white as snow are locked on me for a second in a vacant stare as I am motionless, not sure quite what to make of all this. Awkwardly, the wolf jerks to the side on shaking legs. Uncertainly, I just watch, not knowing if it's a ruse. It's like it's having a seizure! Then... _crunch! _My insides turn to ice in alarm and I back off.

The wolf is on the ground, contorting and squirming in obvious agony. Cautiously, I take a step forward, then one back in confusion. _What do I do? _A cry escapes the wolf-not-wolf and I run over, figuring I can heal easily enough anyway. In a flash, it's not a wolf on the ground...

A girl.

There's a teenager lying limp, lifeless in its place.


	3. and he thinks she's crazy

_jacob._

_Shit! _I have no idea what to do! Do I help her? Run the fuck away? The last one was quickly dismissed. No way am I running away from a fricking girl the size of a toothpick... even if she was a wolf three point two seconds ago! A wolf as big as _me_! Which meant she had been larger than... EVERYONE ELSE! That shouldn't even be possible!

I shed my wolf form, sure that growling or barking wouldn't be an effective means of communication now.

"Hey, uh... _girl." _I almost called her Blondie, but that made me think of that one leech and also 'cause her hair is not nearly dark enough to be blonde. It is... white? "Are you...?" _Awake? Alive? One of us?_ So many possible conclusions to that question are running through my head as I look at her and take a few cautious steps forward, forgetting my nudity and reassured by the feel of grass beneath my toes, corny as it is.

"Am I what?" I've never heard a voice so serene that could subtly give me the vibes that she wanted me to get the fuck away_. _There was a definite undercurrent of hostility. My inner wolf is bristling, now, my arms tensed. She rolls over, that long curtain of hair more like a blanket than anything else. I remember now that I'm not dressed. I'm not Jacob the human right now. I'm Jacob the fucking werewolf (screw what mind-rapist says) and a lack of clothes comes with the territory from time to time. Even in the presence of a girl. _Fuck._

"I don't even know," I say honestly, sure that I'm scowling right now. There's something unnerving about her. She was a wolf, but her skin is pale and her hair snow-white. If it weren't for her heavy breathing and, of course, the fact she was a WOLF, I'd think she was... she was...

"You're a shape-shifter, aren'cha?" Her accent is hard to place. Mixed, but foreign all the same. Cultured, maybe. "Never met one of those before... there's a first for everything." Exhaustion is evident in the way she doesn't even try to get up, the slight tremble in her muscles, but her impossibly light eyes are alert, her voice smooth and nonchalant. If her hair wasn't practically the same shade as her skin, if it'd been darker... if her eyes a warm brown and not... not... whatever colors they are... I'd think she looked like...

Well, no.

Her face is different. Stunning, even. Her face is symmetrical, smoothed to perfection. Youthful, even. But not child-like. Bella _was_ gorgeous, even if she never saw it. Different kinds of beauty. Neither one better. I keep looking for flaws as I stay silent, ultimately deciding that it's her hair I don't like. It's too bright. Inhuman.

"I'll take that as a... as a yes." She takes a deep breath. Her heart is racing, but she's not showing it. Vamp-colored-skin or not, she's among the living. I still have my reservations as I watch, not sure why I'm looking at her so much. I'm just happy I didn't imprint, though. I still had a choice in everything. Thank God. "You're just... going to stand there?" She looks at me again, having closed her eyes for a bit. I give a shrug. "No territorial display? I'm in your guys' land, am I not?"

"You _want_ to be kicked out?" I wonder why I'm not about to do just that.

"Not particularly. I don't think I have the energy to run right now..." Anxiety lurks in her face, but she's trying to mask it. I have her at a disadvantage and she knows it. "We're almost cousins." What? "Species-wise. I'm a werewolf. You're a shifter. We... both turn in to wolves?"

"We're _different_."

"Yes."

I wonder why I had expected her to argue that point.

"Where am I?"

"La Push."

"La...?"

"Push. La Push Reservation."

"Res-"

"Washington State. America? North America?"

"-erv-"

"Northern hemisphere?"

"-ation?"

"Earth?"

"Native Ame-"

"The milky way galaxy?"

"-ricans?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. I didn't know I went this far South."

"...South? This is North!"

"I was Norther."

"North... er?"

"Alaska." Her eyelids flutter shut. Why are her eyelashes so dark when her hair is so light? "It's nice there..."

"Uh... huh." Dark shadows are under her eyes. I don't know why I never noticed. Still, she's not in leech-territory, but it's still unnerving.

"I've always wanted to ride a horse," her voice is getting more and more sing-song with every syllable. "Horses don't like me."

"What?"

"I am predator."

"...?"

"They are prey."

"...!"

"It's all instinct, really."

"..."

"I'm tired."

And she passes out.


	4. but she's just a little slow today

_elise._

I've woken up in so many strange places in my life. In the last fifteen years.

Warehouses, ones either abandoned or just closed. Alleyways, because no one looks twice. School playgrounds, they are vacant in the summer and provide decent shelter. Forests, because my wolf likes to run in them. Strangers' homes, because sometimes I have to suck up my pride and ask for help.

So I am not surprised when I wake up smelling smells I don't recognize in the slightest. Of people who I do not know. Of a house I've never been in.

My cheek itches a bit, the fabric is scratchy yet well-worn. I am on something. Not a bed... it's too firm and smells too much like jeans and food and not enough of skin and breath. The smell of wood is strong, suggesting a rural home or a rustic style of one. I smell burnt eggs, long-since tossed in the trash. Soda pop, freshly opened.

I open my eyes.

A coffee table is a few feet away, eye-level with me. Made of worn timber, it's far from shined up. A few empty plates, tattered magazines, and half-full glasses of booze are on it, all obviously have not been touched in a while.

Slowly, carefully, I sit up, absently running a hand through my hair to gauge the damage done from sleep and running and _wolf._ Swift resistance speaks of tangles. _Great._ I scan my surroundings, my gaze tracing a lazy line from an outdated television set to a cluttered countertop diagonal from me to a wooden table, with staggering piles of what can best be described of as junk shoved to the side to make room for yet another empty plate. _Among thousands, _I think to myself. How many dishes were laying around here? So many!

Then I see him.

Glaring.


	5. meanwhile, he's fighting a battle within

_ jacob._

She is gorgeous.

And it pisses me off.

Girls should not be appealing in the least to me, not anymore. It would be doomed to fail. It always would be, with anyone. I guess I'm just not good at it. So fuck it. I'm not going to do this.

I want to be snide, I want to be mean. Maybe making her face fall a bit would lessen the effect on me, make me stop thinking about how we'd complement each other so damned well... my tanned skin, her ivory... FUCK IT, I said, FUCK IT. I am not doing this.

"What are you looking at?" Not as rude as I'd been hoping for, but I can't bring myself to sink that low. Her eyes are alert, much too alert for someone who just woke up. She swallows, but there's a sense of confidence about her, not like Bella's uncertainty and tendency to lollygag. She swings her legs so that she's sitting on the couch instead of lying on it (I hate how my eyes loathe to leave those toned calves of hers, hate how I hate that the afghan she's wrapped around herself covers most everything else up).

"I was looking at you," her voice is level, serene even, but her body is a startling contradiction of vulnerability and raw power. "My apologies if that was wrong to do." She's staring straight ahead. Why do I wish that those luminous silver eyes were on me, not that damned wall. _What does that plain ol' wall have that I don't? _"Where am I?" She glances at me and my heart leaps to my throat, but she looks away again. Why do I want her to look at me again so badly?

"My house." Dad died a few years back. I couldn't stay in that house so I rent this one from one of my many cousins. Everyone's related somehow, I swear to...

"It's plain." Indignation rises in me, but only for a second. Then I only feel hurt, dammit. "Unfinished, actually. And a mess." She looks at me. The feel of her calm, steady gaze almost makes me not care about what she just said. I can see a thread of some kind, distant and hard to reach, but I try, I try so fucking hard... In a strange, surreal moment, I wonder why I'm trying to reach for a thread when I've already got steel cables (if I'm in crazyville I don't give a damn)... but I _want_ that thread. I want it. Now. I have to get it... just a little further...

"Sorry I can't rent you a room at a ritzy hotel." My tone is apologetic, not right for the snarky words, but it's the best I can manage. _How come? _With her here I can't figure out the answer.

Now it's her turn to be contrite, "I mean no offense."

"Then what did you mean?" Instantly I regret the harsh tone, regret the wince, want only to reassure her that no, I didn't mind, _you can insult my home any day of the week if you just stick around and don't look sorry. _My stomach does a few somersaults.

"It was an observation," I think _Oh, was it now? _at the same time as I think _Oh, okay. _A part of me, one easily overpowered, is annoyed, while the other part is complacent. There is a lengthy pause as she looks at me, her eyes searching. What is she looking for? An explanation? If I could explain, I would. I don't think she's as confused as I am right now. "Usually... homes have pictures, things that one holds dear."

"I guess I hold garbage and dirty plates dear, hm?" I'm about to give in to the side that wants to make her feel okay when she speaks again.

"I apologize," she sounds so formal, "I'll leave you now. Thanks for not killing me." A sudden hint of anxiety lurks in her silver-white eyes, send a sudden burst of it into me, as well.

"No!"

I lurch to my feet, arm outstretched. Misinterpreting it as an attack, she spins on a heel and crouches a bit, fists-clenched and eyes wide.

"Sorry!" I hold my palms out in a placating gesture, "Don't go." Her brow lowers a fraction in confusion, her eyes sharpen with suspicion.

"Why?"

"I won't kill you," I say, as if that is a serious concern when it most certainly is not. Why can't she just _see_ that? Can't see that I'd do anything for her? A sinking feeling hits my gut, a moment of dawning dread. _Imprint. _No. _no no no no no. _I dig my bare heels into the carpet like a balking horse.

I don't want it. I never have. It's a chain and a prison and not _real_. And yet... As much as I've been... what have I been? Subconsciously –

"That's a relief," she says dryly, side-stepping once, cautiously, before dashing out to the door. Or, at least, where she probably thought the door was, but she ends up in the spare bedroom instead. In a flash, I follow, standing in the door as she whirls around to face me, looking like a trapped animal... Can't she see that I'm one, too? Her in the physical world, me in my mind. "I won't kill you." She says, her voice frustratingly calm when compared to the tension and panic in her posture, in her eyes. I want nothing more than to let her go than I do to hold her in my arms forever and ever. Fuck.

"Let me leave," her eyes are pleading, her voice is controlled. Her hands are shaking, just like mine, albeit for a much different reason.

I can't disobey her. I had fought it to this point, but I gave in. I stepped back, leaving the doorway in.

With one last searching look, she breezes by. I hear her breathe in, scent the air, before locating the actual door out.

I'm powerless to stop her when she leaves.

Powerless to not want to.

_A/N: I told a reviewer that he wasn't going to imprint but I've changed my mind. Lol. I just kept writing about him like... like... this. It just kinda happened. Sorry about that._


	6. so she adapts

_elise._

I run.

I always have and I think I always will.

Humans focus too much on one single sense, never thinking to focus on one just as much as the others. Or, at least, it would seem that way in my memories.

Being Turned is, doubtlessly, considered a curse and not a gift, to me. But it would be foolish to focus only on the negatives. Now that I can prepare myself, can push far enough into the wilderness to where my wolf, no matter how sleek and swift she may be, can never unleash havoc in an urban setting, I can appreciate some of the more positive things.

My eyesight is improved, yes, but that is not the reason for why I can _see_ the world so much better. No, seeing is too one-sided. I simply _experience_.

So, when I am too quick to even be considered a blur as I go tearing out that man's door, it takes but one breath to decide where I should go next. A million and one scents, a million and one possibilities, but I've honed in on being able to distinguish them. It's like a highway, so many cars, but you just need to look ahead and stay on the road to get where you need to go. Forgive the overly simplistic analogy. In an instant, I am assaulted by a million and one things and, therefore, have to make a million and one choices.

La Push is quiet. Rural, yes, but not dead. Children, but a street away, content in a world only the youths know and will soon forget like the rest of us. The _clickity-clack_ of their sneakers on cement, coupled with their boisterous _whoops_ and hollers, are a minor distraction, another car, but I keep my eyes on the road. A truck is passing by, or, rather, limping, judging by the too-strong stench that says there's a decent leak somewhere within it. That does not help me; I must go forward still.

Clothes on a clothesline up ahead. A huge, aged tree guards them with low-sweeping branches that may as well be the obnoxiously-bright ads in a newspaper, screaming _pick me! Pick me! _I find the prospect irresistible.

Not even an eye-blink since 'escaping' that man's house, I am in the forest, not-quite-dry clothes in hand. I look down and inspect them, having done my best to pick the most bland articles as for them to be the least identifiable: a white t-shirt, a bit oversized but workable; denim jeans, a bit short for my liking but, like the shirt, workable; and one, lonely sock. It's summer; walking barefoot won't be _too_ outrageous.

I look over my shoulder, noting the location of the yard I'd just stolen from. _Do werewolves go to Hell? _I've little faith, but surely the Man Upstairs would favor me _borrowing_ clothes as opposed to being indecent? "I'll return these when I can," I promise to no one.

_A/N: Sorry for disappearing on you guys! life's a bitch, let's leave it at that. Forgive me._


	7. well at least she isnt naked anymore

elise.

The moon may not be full, it might be waning, but after my being forced to give in for a night, my wolf is still eager for activity. The days before are about me and my control; the wolf doesn't try then. The days _after_, however... perhaps, her confidence simply rose a bit too much.

Judging by the intense stomachache, my wolf does not approve of my plans to leave La Push. Reluctantly obliging, I rest in a forest clearing. "Does it not hurt you as much as it does me?" Sometimes, when it suited me, I thought of us, wolf and human, as one and the same. Mostly, though, we were two distinct entities. I sigh, wondering why I have not been checked into the looney bin yet. The hardest thing is that there are never any distinct lines. Any one action... I cannot say if it is Wolf or if it is Me. Not truly. I pretend to, but it's not like 'we' leave each other sticky notes on the fridge.

_Thud-tha-thud, thud, thud-tha-thud, thud, whoosh, wha-whoosh, wha-whoosh, tha-thud-thud, thud, thud-tha-thud, thud, tha-whoosh... _I pause, listening. The sound is familiar somehow. I do not tense or otherwise become afraid, but, as always, I'm ready to leap up at a moment's notice.

He bursts from behind some bushes, like a dolphin breaking through the waves. His fur is russet-red, an interesting mix of light and dark hairs. 'I' remember him now; snarling and anticipating an attack. Oh, she'd thought to fight him? Luckily, the moon's pull had been weakening. Her aggression had been borne of desperation, a last-ditch effort to stave off Changing. The Change; usually such a grotesque affair, it'd been quick as a wink last night, now I recall. _Hmmm. _

"Hello," I say, realizing that I'm not remotely threatened by the grand wolf's presence. Maybe I should be. Perhaps I am right not to be. I almost certainly will never be quite sure. "I'm not like you," I add, just in case he's forgotten, "because today I will have thumbs. Same for tomorrow, and the day after that, and the –"

The speed of _his_ change was like my unusual one: near instantaneous. It is still breathtaking, how effortless it seems. Perhaps it is, but it is so hard to tell with those low-set brows and intensely dark eyes of his. I rest my elbows on my knees, taking great care in looking nonchalant when my heart is like a runaway deer.

"You really only change on the full moon?" His question is earnest, but his tone is indifferent, sullen, even.

"Yes," it is surreal, discussing this. I am torn between feeling uncomfortable and feeling liberated. Is it strange to feel both? "The moon enslaves me and those like me... whereas the sun tries to spoil _them_." He looks confused for but a moment – I find I like the way it is so easy to see when understanding dawns. What I decide is the wolf in me likes that the mention of _them_, the enemy of our (my) kind, makes his eyes narrow and his fists clench. _Good, _I think to myself, _the enemy of my enemy... _

"That's a weird way of putting it. I think they're just obsessed with disco." The wisecrack is at odds with that frown.

"I see that we've switched places."

"How?" He shakes his head, getting it. He looks at the ground in an attempt to smother the could-be-if-he-let-it grin that tries to steal onto his face. "Right. _I'm_ the one who's naked." Only a robot would be able to even pretend to mind that; I'm quite sure that _that_ is what the male form should aspire to be. But to openly admire him... not my style. I keep my eyes firmly fixed on his own when he looks back at me. "Who are you?" He asks, after a moment's pause.

"Who are _you_?" I return.

"Jacob Black." There is no hesitation in his words and no deception in his eyes.

"Elise Korsak."


	8. but he is and no one seems to care

_jacob._

She's completely unfazed. Unfazed by me, my nudity, _everything_.

I'm not at all sure if I should be irritated or relieved.

Maybe both.

"Alright, Elise Korsak." I feel like I'm saying her name wrong. When she said it, it was as though she flipped a light switch, except this switch turned on an accent instead. Her voice became rougher, more foreign - something that is completely at odds with her delicate frame. "Where are you from?"

"Everywhere," she answers so quickly I should think she is lying. Except... I don't. "Where are you from?" I play along, both annoyed and amused at the quick return of my own question.

"La Push. Ever heard of it?" She gives a light shake of her head and a hint of a smile plays on her lips. Irrationally, I want nothing more than to make her smile again and again and...

"Nah. Sounds foreign." _Foreign. You're the one who is foreign to me. _"Where would it be on the globe?"

"Too small to note."

"Ah. Well, then, that's a shame, I am sure. It's always the smallest things that matter the most." I study her for a moment in the wake of those words, struck by their truth. _What do you know about the little things? _I wish I knew the little things about her.

"True, that." She's so calm. Why the hell is she so calm? I was a six-foot-tall wolf just a few moments ago! And here she is, sittin' on a fricken' log, cool as a cucumber. What, was she expecting something more of me? Her expression changes somehow, it becomes... blank. Not quite a frown, but certainly not a smile. Without really knowing why I am bothering: "Well, since we're such close friends 'n' all, now..." It's worth it when her brows move just a teeny, tiny bit closer to each other, when her eyes spark with newfound interest that is not without a bit of confusion. Or is that suspicion? I'm not sure how to read her just yet. _Just yet. _I repeat to myself. _The fuck is that supposed to mean? What, pal, do you think you're gonna know how to "read her" soon? Really? Really? Idiot. _I can insult myself all day long. "I'm a werewolf."

"I thought we already estab –" She begins, not without a hint of condescension before her expression changes all over again as she cuts herself off. By "all over again" I mean tiny nuances in her face change subtly. The corner of her lip turns up and the light returns to her eyes; she tilts her head a fraction and leans forward no more than an inch. "The crazy thing is..." The picture of relaxation once more, Elise stretches her arms to the side lazily, as though she's been sitting there a while. I followed her quickly, there's no way she could have sat there long enough to get stiff. "I'm one of those, too."

I don't miss a beat: "'One of those?'" I parrot, while chancing a step forward and trying to mimic her light, serene voice. It ends up sounding more like a wannabe British accent, so I settle for the stereotypical "girlie" impression, raising my voice's pitch and scrunching my face up a bit to make it obvious that no, I'm not being strangled by an invisible eel, and that this voice will be intentional. "Oh, werewolves. Yeah, I'm one of those. Just like I'm _one of those _types who likes mayo on my pizza or ketchup on my eggs." Not that I'm against either of those prospects. I'll take what I can get, food is food. Well, usually.

"I like ketchup on my eggs," she announces, looking as though she is daring me to try and look disgusted. "But I wouldn't think that mayonnaise and pizza mix."

Before I can reply, she tenses. Irritation gnaws at me; _what the fuck did I do this time? _Raking a hand through my in-need-of-another-trim hair, I spin around to follow her sharp gaze, only to see Embry Clearwater standing near the trunk of a tree. His gaze is pingponging between looking at me (and, by extension, my nakedness) and Elise with wide eyes. Once I look at him, though, he tries to save face by attempting a smirk. Instead, it just looks like he's smelled something shitty. "Well, well, well. Did Jakey find himself a gir–"

And just like that. The mood is broken. Now, I'm out for Embry's blood and not Elise's smile.

It was nice while it lasted.


	9. she meets his friend

_elise_.

Embry Call is oblivious to the danger he is in, that much I am nearly certain of.

His grin is easy and his words are dipped in humor most everyone could appreciate, and I enjoy his company.

Jacob does not.

Even as Embry entertains me with a story that makes me fight a chuckle, I am aware of Jacob's thunderous gaze as though it were the moon calling for me to run. If Embry is aware of his glare, he doesn't show it. There is a complete lack of tension in his body, in his muscles, which almost – almost – rival the other man's. Where his stance is easy and casual, Jacob's is that of a predator, a cobra coiled and ready to spring.

"... and then he just _biffed_ it! I mean, I've seen some really stupid crashes, but that one of Jake's takes the cake."

Politely, I grin and play as though I am biting back laughter.

"That wasn't really funny, Embry." At Jacob's flat remark, he turns to face the unimpressed man.

"Aw, lighten up, Jake. These are fond memories. We're just appreciating them, aren't we, Elise?" Embry looks over his shoulder at me with laughter lighting his dark eyes.

My smile doesn't waver and I don't offer a reply.

"I thought you were on a patrol?" Jacob asks, suddenly, with a most accusing voice. There is age in his dark eyes and his tone, but the flawlessness of his skin beg to differ.

Embry rubs the back of his head with a hand, grinning much too widely. "Ehe, I... ah... thought somethin' was up, over here, you know..." The pressure of Jacob's gaze increases and Embry's eyes flick over to me. Something strikes Embry and he swings a now-questioning gaze back to Jacob.

"She's a werewolf." He says this with little inflection and I clench my hands into fists. It stings like betrayal, icy and bitter, that he'd –

"Sh-what-she _phased_?" Embry's surprise is neither aghast or frightened and it gives me pause.

"No," Jacob is looking at me again, unreadable as ever. I arrange my features into a mirror of his: blank. "She's a _werewolf_."

"A...? You mean? You're –"

"A werewolf," I reply, with a voice that is dead to my own ears. "Turn on a full moon. That's it. I don't shed my human skins as quickly as your friend here does."

"Shed your – that's, uh, an odd way of putting it." Embry inclines his head, considering. "The mind-reader did say we were just shapeshifters."

"You are like Jacob?" I ask after a moment's pause.

"A shapeshifter? Yeah. He's Alpha." He looks at said "Alpha" with questions in his eyes. "So you –"

"I think you should get back to your patrol," Jacob cuts in, leaving no room for quarter. Embry nods and is gone, leaving tattered shorts and the scent of fur in his wake. I look at Jacob and raise a brow.

"Alpha, hm?"


End file.
